


Castle of Solitude

by skreev



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Felix has poor conflict management skills, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, absolutely indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skreev/pseuds/skreev
Summary: In an attempt to hide from his father, Felix hides in Bernadetta's room. To both of their surprise, he makes it a habit.Yet as the years pass, Felix starts to realize it's not the room that offers him solace...
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	Castle of Solitude

He was hiding from his father.

Rodrigue had ridden into Garreg Mach as if he were just casually stopping in for tea. Of course he hadn’t written first. Or maybe he had and Felix had stuffed the message into his desk drawer, where all his father’s letters went to die.

If only Rodrigue would admit that he was only here to check on Dimtiri and leave Felix alone, it would be for the best. Yet Felix’s old man always insisted on dragging him out with the Boar Prince on their outings. As if Felix wanted to eat teacakes in the garden or needed his father’s overcautious appraisals on his fighting technique.

 _He should just adopt Dimitri and stop this charade,_ Felix thought. He cut a long path around the dining hall, hoping his father wouldn’t see him and give chase. _At least then he could leave me alone._

Felix racked his brain for places to hide. He couldn’t bar himself in his own room obviously; that would be the first place Rodrigue would go. The training grounds would be another obvious guess, and the library and dining hall were too public. Felix might have hidden in a church cloister, but the monks made him uneasy, and he doubted he would last long with that arduous chanting.

His natural inclination was to barge in on Sylvain, but the trouble with Miklan had made Sylvain plunge into one of his gloomy moods. Ingrid had even yelled at Felix the other day, warning him to go easy on his friend.

He was coming around the docks, the line of dormitories in sight. _Come on. Think_. _There has to be somewhere you can hide that the old dastard won’t find you._

As he came out long the wide pathway along the dorms, he saw Rodrigue and Dimitri chatting by the stairs to the sauna. Felix nearly froze. They hadn’t noticed him yet. He could have turned around, but where would he go?

An idea struck him.

Felix marched up to the line of doorways in the lower dormitories and pounded his fist against Bernadetta’s door.

“Um…um…” came the shrill voice on the other side. “Who is it?”

“It’s Felix,” he said. “Come on. Open up.” Bernadetta shrieked.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you like that. I was nervous—”

“Open up!” Felix glanced over at Rodrigue and Dimitri. Rodrigue was laughing sociably, and Dimitri forced a smile onto his face. “Come on. I really need a favor.”

The door opened to a sliver. Felix saw a thread of purple hair and part of a grey eye.

“What’s wrong? Did someone die?”

“No, I just…look, I need somewhere to hide and fast,” Felix said.

“Here?” Bernadetta’s voice went up another octave.

“Let me in.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

Felix slipped his hands into the crack of the door, trying to pry it open. In response, Bernadetta threw her body over the door. For such a petite girl, she certainly knew how to use her body as leverage. “I won’t bother you. Promise. Let’s call it payback for returning your satchel.”

“Uh…”

“Bernadetta, my father is going to find me soon,” Felix said. 

The door opened so suddenly that Felix fell forward. As he picked himself up from the floor, Bernadetta turned the latch in the door. She then flattened her whole body against the door, staring at the intruder in her quarters.

“Thanks,” Felix mumbled. He hadn’t quite thought out his plan beyond this point. He glanced around for some place to sit but found barely an inch of free space.

Unlike his room, which was sparsely furnished and rarely dusted, Bernadetta’s room was cluttered but clean. Yarn, spools of thread, books, needle cushions, sheet music, paintbrushes, and sketching paper smothered almost every surface in the room. Animal dolls—some in the process of being stitched and stuffed—formed a vanguard on the window ledge next to a cluster of potted plants. Felix grabbed a stack of books to shove aside so that he could sit. Bernadetta suddenly jolted to life.

“Hey!” Bernadetta said. “Don’t touch those.” She plucked books from his hands, barely able to contain them all within her arms. Books slid and crashed to the ground.

“Look, I just need somewhere to hang out until my father gives up,” Felix said. “I won’t bother you.”

“Heh, yeah, if my father came to visit, I’d probably be hiding too,” Bernadetta said. She assembled the books in her hands, trying to clear a space. There were more notebooks than Felix anticipated, mixed in with various novels and tales of chivalry.

“Thanks.” The chair was meant for the cluttered desk. Had Felix thought this through, he might have brought some homework or a book with him. Since that was out of the question, he needed something else to pass his time. He unsheathed his sword.

Bernadetta gasped, falling backwards on her bed and scrambling into the corner.

“Don’t hurt me!”

“Why would I hurt you?” Felix asked. He was starting to regret this already. Was placating Bernadetta’s nerves better or worse than suffering a meal with his father?

“Because I hurt you when you returned my satchel.”

“I already told you. You didn’t hurt me,” Felix said. “I was just trying to figure out how you disarmed me.” Felix had a honing stone in his pocket. He began to move down the blade in long sword to sharpen it. If only he had a bit of oil to clean it as well.

Bernadetta scuttled back to her bed like a rabbit running to hide in its den. She watched Felix uneasily for a minute, waiting to see if the hawk would swoop. As if to prove he was harmless, he stared intently down at his sword. Bernadetta snatched up her knitting, and for a while, they both just focused on their tasks. Occasionally, Felix would glance over at Bernadetta, and more than once, he caught her staring over at him. Their eyes both darted away. Neither spoke.

Only when Felix realized that Bernadetta wouldn’t talk did he began to relax.

And that’s how they spent their time: in silence, working on their different tasks. Even Bernadetta seemed to loosen her guard. Her eyes stopped tracking Felix. One time he glanced over to see her brow knit in concentration, her teeth chewing absently on her lip.

“What are you making?”

Felix regretted it as soon as he said it. The question was thoughtless. Now he had broken the pleasant silence. Bernadetta would probably freak out somehow.

“Oh? This? It’s a scarf,” she said. “That’s all I can really do right now. I’m not very good at knitting yet.” A nervous smile trembled at her lips as she held up her handiwork. Soft purple wool knotted in even lines. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Felix nodded. The compliment brightened Bernadetta’s face; she ducked her head to hide a curling smile. Softly, she added, “Maybe I’ll make you one then.” 

Felix shrugged. So far, this actually wasn’t bad. Definitely better than eating with his father.

* * *

He was hiding from Ingrid.

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear any of it. Not the snide remarks about his military tactics. Not the comparisons to Glenn. Not any of it. Not now.

The problem about Ingrid was that she always wanted to _talk_ about emotions and memories and hurt feelings. _Why won’t you let anyone in?_ she had asked him once. His wall, she called it, as though she could cause it to crumble with a barrage of smiles and words. Felix didn’t have a wall. Felix shared his feelings freely. He wasn’t hiding anything.

Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone? Felix had moved on. Why not her? He would never understand her obsession with Glenn. They had been too young to be in love. Felix had been in and out of half a dozen arranged marriages since his birth, and he had felt nothing but relief every time negotiations fell through.

Felix wasn’t heartless though. That was why he was hiding after all. Last thing he wanted was to make Ingrid cry with some thoughtless comment and have Sylvain beating down his door with some bored platitude about women’s emotions that he incorrectly deduced from his various conquests.

The meal tonight was pheasant roast, and Ingrid was sure to come early and stay late for seconds. Felix slid in just as the line opened, grabbed his meal, and hiked outside to a small arcade shielded by topiaries. It was a good place to sit and eat without anyone bothering him—Felix’s favorite spot in fact. There was just a small bench tangled in the weeds that even the monks had forgotten about.

Today, however, someone else seemed to have discovered his hiding spot.

Bernadetta crouched with her face pressed into the hedges. Her arms extended into the branches. Her hands held a pair of tweezers, he realized, which dropped something from the branch into a cup on the ground beside her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Bernadetta shrieked. Flailing, she knocked the cup over. Insects ran loose from the overturned cup: beetles, ants, even a worm.

“Sorry! I won’t do it again! I promise!”

“Do what again? Why are you out here?”

Bernadetta froze. “Oh, Felix, it’s you,” she said, breathing heavily. Her cheeks burned so brightly that if Felix hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she had been sunburned. “Um, it’s nothing. It’s silly.”

“I thought you never came out of your room,” Felix said.

“Of course, I do! I have to sometimes, you know! Besides,” she held up the cup, “my plants need to be fed.”

“You feed your plants? You know that they usually just take water, right?”

“It’s not that. It’s just… oh, nevermind.” She looked about on the verge of tears. “I’ll just go. Sorry to bother you.”

“I’m not judging you,” Felix said. “I’m just curious. Is it really all that bad to ask questions?” 

“No, no, it’s fine really.” Bernadetta brushed past him.

And in his quest to avoid making Ingrid cry, he ended up making Bernadetta cry.

Except he really didn’t understand Bernadetta. The slightest thing seemed to set her off. He saw the cup on the ground, still teeming with insects. _Let her come back for it,_ he thought. He sat down on the bench and kicked it away with his foot. _You’re not obligated to return it. Especially not after the satchel incident._ It had taken him weeks to get that satchel back to her, and she still seemed nervous around him.

Yet the incident gnawed at him. Returning the satchel at least had taught him that disarming move, and Bernadetta did shield him from his father during the last visit. And how did Felix repay her? By making her cry. While he did not understand how he managed to screw up this time, screw up he did.

Felix abandoned his tray on the bench, shoved a few bugs back into the cup, and marched out to Bernadetta’s room.

“Felix, there you are!” Ingrid cried. She had caught him halfway between the dining hall and the dorms. Felix scowled. “Look, I feel like we need to talk—”

“Can’t,” Felix said. “I have to return something to Bernadetta. Go to lunch. I’ll meet you there.” He had no intention of returning to the dining hall. The excuse seemed to work. Ingrid continued on her way to lunch, and Felix had a convenient excuse for disappearing.

His knuckles rapped against Bernadetta’s door. There was no response. “Hey, you forgot your cup.” Nothing stirred on the other side. “Look, I know I’m an asshole. Please don’t cry over it. I’m sorry, all right?”

Perhaps, for once, she wasn’t in her room. Maybe she had gone to the greenhouse. She said she had plants, right? As if in response, the bed creaked from behind the door. She was definitely in there.

“Look, I don’t want your plants to starve,” Felix said. “Just open the door, and you can have your bugs back.”

The door cracked open. Bernadetta was not crying, but her eyes wallowed in fear. Her hand slipped through the opening and reached for the cup.

“Will you let me say I’m sorry?” Felix asked. “I wasn’t judging you. I was just asking questions.”

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” Bernadetta said. “I totally misinterpreted—”

“Stop doing that,” Felix said. “Not everything I do is malicious.”

“Sorry—” Bernadetta bit her lip. “I don’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I just want to know what type of plant eats bugs.”

The door widened. “Would you like to see?”

Felix followed Bernadetta back into her room. He had not expected to set foot in here again. Bernadetta gestured for him to come to the windowsill towards the array of potted plants nested by the window. Hot sun spilled over the oddest plants Felix had ever seen in his life.

“This is a flytrap,” Bernadetta said. The plant’s narrow stem ended in what appeared to be a gaping mouth fringed with spines. “And this is a pitcher plant.” This one had a long tubular shape with a small flap over its opening. “They’re insectivorous, so they eat bugs.”

Bernadetta took her tweezers out and gently placed a small ant on the spiked maw of the flytrap. The flytrap’s mouth snapped shut around the ant. Felix bent down to look closer. Through the light, he could see the shadows of the ant wriggling inside of the plant’s mouth.

“The pitcher plants aren’t as dramatic,” Bernadetta said. It was the first time she had spoken that her voice hadn’t trembled with fear. “The bugs get caught in a sticky sap and slowly slide down into it.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Felix said. “Where do these even grow?”

“Only in the southern coast of Adrestia, where it’s really swampy,” Bernadetta said. “Would you like to feed one?” She showed Felix how to pick up the squirming insect with tweezers and drop it gently into the waiting mouth of the flytrap. The mouth clapped around the bug like a book slamming shut. Felix had never seen something like this. It fascinated him. 

Felix finally tore his gaze away to hand the tweezers back to Bernadetta. She was staring at him.

“What’s wrong,” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “You’re just…smiling.”

“So?”

“You don’t smile very often.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize.”

Bernadetta squeezed her lips tightly together—so tightly that they blanched white—just so that she would not peep another offensive apology. 

“Hey, sorry again for being a jerk earlier,” Felix said. “I don’t know what I did, but it wouldn’t be the first time I did something stupid to upset a girl.”

“It’s not you,” Bernadetta said, letting another ant slide into the throat of a pitcher plant. “I’m sorry. No, I really am. My father hates these plants. He says its unseemly for a young lady to have an interest in things like this. When he catches me hunting for bugs, he gets really scary.”

“Who cares?” Felix said. “Gardening seem pretty ladylike to me.”

“He says that young women should enjoy flowers, not flytraps,” Bernadetta said. “And I’m only allowed to arrange flowers. Gardening is common work.” She gave another worm to a pitcher plant. “I guess I just get a little defensive when people catch me doing things he wouldn’t approve of.”

“No offense, but he sounds unbearable.”

Bernadetta quickly finished up her feeding. Felix wasn’t sure if she spoke, but he almost thought he heard the words, “he is.”

“Do you mind if I hang out here for a few minutes?” Felix asked. “I don’t really want to run into Ingrid. She probably thinks I’m avoiding her.”

“Why would she think that?”

Felix sighed. “Because I am.”

“Oh…well, this is a good place to avoid people! My favorite in fact!” Her laughter sounded nervous. “It’s nice to have your own room with a lock on it so you can keep everyone out! I never had that at home.”

“Your room doesn’t have a lock on it at home?” Felix said. “I thought that was standard in estates. My father keeps almost every door locked in the manor.”

It had been one of his strange quirks since Duscur—locking the doors as he came and went. Glenn’s rooms were locked, as were his mother’s old chambers and the study where she used to write her letters. The dining room and parlor—unused in years—were shut off, and they usually took meals in the breakfast room, where there were no empty seats to remind them of what was missing. Felix could barely picture Rodrigue these days without seeing him winding down those long, empty corridors of the manor, his keys jingling at his hip.

Bernadetta shook her head. “My father won’t allow it. He says that it’s his home, and he deserves to go where he wants when he wants. He once tried to take the door, but my mother put her foot down.” She squeaked. “Oops. You probably didn’t want to hear all that.”

Felix felt a strange pull in this moment. Like something had latched behind his heart and tugged. “It’s fine,” he said. “My dad is a pain too.” 

“I guessed,” Bernadetta said. “So why are you hiding from Ingrid?”

Felix cringed. Not the conversation he wanted to have. In fact, it was the very conversation he wanted to avoid. But Bernadetta was allowing him to stay in her room—her castle of solitude, as he had once heard her call it—and at least he wouldn’t risk making her cry if he spoke bluntly about the matter.

Or so he hoped.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “I might have said something rude to her the other day.”

“Oh…what did you say?”

 _Ingrid, go get married_ , he had snapped, and all she had been trying to do was talk to him about class. It was difficult to speak to Ingrid alone these days. Glenn’s specter always intruded on their conversations. She had such a rosy view of Glenn—so shiny and clean that it might have well been a stranger. Ingrid’s Glenn was not the same person as Felix’s brother Glenn. He couldn’t reconcile those two figures in his head.

And his father’s Glenn! Like a third ghost mingling in with the others—some sort of prodigy and a noble sacrifice to the ideals of knighthood. Didn’t he remember how much shit Glenn got into? How he beat Miklan into a bloody puddle and refused to apologize? How he disregarded his commanding officer when he first became a knight? That was Felix’s Glenn—no-nonsense, irascible, tough Glenn. The Glenn that had taught Felix how to throw a punch. The Glenn that gave Felix the courage to stand up to his bullies.

What scared Felix more than anything was the idea that his Glenn was the wrong Glenn—as though he had made some mistake all those years of adoring his brother. That maybe Ingrid and Rodrigue were correct: that Glenn had been some sort of noble, idealized knight who only upheld the virtues of law and order. Perhaps it was better to hide that Glenn away, to allow only the honorable Glenn to persist within the memories of the living.

“I told her that it was stupid to try so hard at being a knight and that she should just go get married.” Felix avoided looking at Bernadetta. Instead, he focused on the stack of books leaning on her desk. Many of the novels had their titles hacked out with what looked to be a penknife. Weird.

“Oh…” He could hear it—the fucking disappointment in Bernadetta’s voice. Why did he care what she thought about him? She wasn’t his mother, and she had no right to— “Why don’t you just apologize?”

Felix almost laughed. “As if it were that easy.”

“It is!” Bernadetta said. “I can teach you know. I’m pretty good at it myself.”

Felix was halfway through forming a comeback when he stopped short. “Are you making a joke?”

Bernadetta ducked her head. In a small voice, she added, “I was just trying to make you feel better.” Her eyes snuck back to look at Felix. Despite his anger and frustration, he could feel the smile tugging at his lips, and for a moment, he allowed himself the indulgence. Upon seeing it, Bernadetta returned it with her own smile. Their eyes met. Her eyes were dark, almost black but not quite—more like a deep steel gray.

Felix tore away. Heat flushed his skin, and his mouth felt dry. All the thoughts had emptied out from his head, so that he couldn’t think of what to say next.

“I should get going,” he sputtered. “Thanks for letting me hide out here.”

“Of course!” Bernadetta said.

Felix headed towards the door without another glance towards Bernadetta. Why did he suddenly feel so awkward?

“Oh and Felix?” Felix cranked his head back to Bernadetta, right before the door shut. She held it open with both hands, peering out at him from her shadowed crack in the door. “You’re welcome to hide here whenever you need to. I don’t mind your company.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. He scowled to hide it. “Thanks, I guess.”

* * *

He was hiding from Byleth.

The ball was bad enough. What was dancing, after all, but an excuse to paw at each other like wild animals? Or a venue for people to get sloppy drunk? The punch was supposed to be free of any spirits, but someone – _someone_ from the Golden Deer, if Felix had to guess—had spiked it. Despite Seteth’s best efforts, the entire affair was quickly unraveling into a public orgy.

“You’re just mad because the girl you want to shag isn’t here,” Sylvain said, already tipsy. Felix’s ears burned at the suggestion. He hoped that the flush of alcohol concealed it.

“Bernadetta’s coming,” Felix said. “She told me that Dorothea was forcing her.”

“So you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you want to shag her.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You’ve been spending an _awful_ lot of time in that room with her.”

Nothing Felix could say would abate Sylvain’s suggestive teasing. Felix had been spending more time in Bernadetta’s room, sure, but mostly for innocent reasons. Despite a broken arm, Caspar had been absolutely obnoxious about sparring Felix, so Felix had slipped away to make sure that he didn’t mangle the boy. Dimitri had been Dimitri, and that was enough to make Felix disappear for whole afternoons. Sylvain wouldn’t understand any of that however. 

Felix rolled his eyes. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“All right, but if you go too far, Byleth is going to take pity on you and make you dance.”

Felix had barely turned away from Sylvain when he saw Byleth’s head swivel towards him through the crowd. As though intuiting that Felix was suddenly alone, Byleth’s face spread into an empathetic smile. The professor began to part the crowd towards Felix. Felix turned back to Sylvain.

“Why does Byleth insist on dancing with everyone?” Felix groaned. Byleth had made it a point to mingle with every single student, for fear that anyone might feel lonely or left out during the festivities. “How hard is it to understand that some people would rather be alone?”

“Well if you don’t want to dance with Byleth, you should choose someone else,” Sylvain said. “It’s a ball. It’s weird if you don’t dance. Look at all the pretty ladies. Some pretty good-looking gents too.”

“I don’t want to dance with anyone.”

“Please, bet I can name one person you’ll dance with.”

Felix rolled his eyes. Knowing what he did about Bernadetta, he doubted that she was so eager to spin about the dance floor herself. At the very least, once Bernadetta arrived, they could make a nice show for Byleth—well enough that the professor would leave Felix alone, and then they could both disappear entirely, Bernadetta to her room, Felix to his.

 _Or maybe both of them to her room._ The thought immediately made Felix sweat. Why did he think that? If only he could slap sense into himself the way he would into Sylvain.

“Promise me you’ll make a move tonight,” Sylvain said. “The school year is almost over, and you’re going to regret it if you don’t.”

Felix wanted to come up with some sort of snappy response to shut Sylvain up. In fact, he drafted several in his head, but it was getting harder for Felix to deny the taunts. Yet while Sylvain often advocated seizing the day, Felix found himself struggling to justify why he should make a move when in just a few short months they would part, likely forever. A mountain range and half of Faerghus split Varley from Fraldarius, and her father would likely shut her away from the world until he could ensnare her in marriage to some overfed noble.

The more Felix thought about it, the sicker he felt. Part of him had a mind to go down to Varley and shut up her father personally, although he knew such an endeavor would never come to pass.

“Well, well, well, Dorothea, don’t you look ravishing,” Sylvain said suddenly. Felix’s pulse spiked. If Dorothea was here, that meant Bernadetta must have arrived too. He caught her just behind Dorothea, shrinking under his attention. The formal school attire that they were required to wear did little to flatter anyone, but Dorothea had worked magic on Bernadetta’s hair, shaping tight ringlets out of her shaggy waves. Felix never much cared for makeup on women, but her carmine lip paint drew his eyes down her face, and the resulting thoughts made him hot all over.

“You look…nice,” he gargled. The words were much more difficult to say than he had anticipated. Bernadetta didn’t seem to mind or care. He couldn’t tell if it was rouge or a blush that made her cheeks flare so sweetly.

“Dorothea, you are the prettiest dame at this entire shindig,” Sylvain said. “I’ve been to royal galas that haven’t had girls as pretty as you.” Dorothea rolled her eyes. “Would you care to dance?” As Sylvain guided Dorothea away, he whispered to Felix, “that’s how you do it!”

Felix and Bernadetta were now alone, standing together in the ball, as their drunk classmates twirled and laughed and squeezed around them.

“Um,” Felix coughed nervously, “do you want to dance?”

“Not really,” Bernadetta said. “Sorry, I don’t want to disappoint—”

“Thank the goddess,” Felix said. “So…” Why was it so hard for him to think of something to say? This always seemed to happen around her. They would be just chatting and enjoying each other’s company, and then she would giggle or bite her lip or wind a scarf around his neck, and his whole brain went dumb.

“Don’t drink the punch,” he finally said. Mentally, he kicked himself. _That was a dumb thing to say._

“How long do you think we have to stay here until we can leave?” Bernadetta asked.

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know, but if you look too awkward, Byleth is going to try to come rescue you.”

Bernadetta blanched. “What does that mean?!” She began to look around nervously. “I knew I should have just stayed in my room. This isn’t my type of shindig anyways.”

_Say something. Say something, you idiot._

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Were Sylvain here to hear it, he might have praised Felix for the effort but not the execution. It was less of a pick-up line and more of a stuttering babble of syllables. Felix found it increasingly difficult to face Bernadetta now. He had probably scared her away. She might run for the hills now that he said it. Who was even to say that Bernadetta liked him anyhow? She probably felt intimidated by the way he always barreled into her room. Goddess, what if he had been scaring her this entire time and—

Bernadetta slipped her arm around his. “I’m glad you’re here too. Out of anyone, I mean. Well, what I mean is—”

Felix reached over and patted her on her head. Another stupid move, but at least it made her smile.

Suddenly, a shadow darkened their corner.

“Are you two having fun?” Byleth asked. Bernadetta squeaked something incomprehensible, and Felix just scowled. The professor looked between them. “Have you had anything to eat?” Byleth’s tone only meant one thing: they would be suckered into eating cream puffs and custard tarts while pretending that they were all having just a jolly old time.

Felix had an idea. To extricate himself from Bernadetta, he had to pry Bernadetta’s nails from his arm. 

“Professor, can we talk?” Byleth followed him a few steps away from Bernadetta. Without Felix’s shadow to guard her, she slunk back into the corner. “So, Bernadetta and I were—” Were what? What were they doing?

Fortunately, Byleth filled in the blanks.

“Oh!” Byleth gasped. The former mercenary suddenly nodded with a knowing expression. “Are you planning on taking her to the goddess tower?”

Felix had never lied so quickly or so smoothly. “Yes.”

“Forgive me for interrupting!” Byleth scurried away, and Felix felt a deep sense of satisfaction, followed by a sudden jolt behind his heart. Wait, no, now people would be expecting them to do something together, shit.

He walked back to Bernadetta, took her hand, and swiftly led her out of the hall.

“What’s going on?” she shrieked.

“I successfully brokered our escape,” Felix said. Away from the sweaty bodies and the stink of liquor, Felix could finally breathe again.

“Um, Felix?”

Suddenly, Felix realized that he was still holding her hand. What was more, he was loath to let her go.

“What did you say to Byleth?”

Felix shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He released her hand. He felt strangely cold without her presence. “Anyways, you’re free now.” He had expected Bernadetta to fly away like an uncaged bird. Instead, she planted herself in place, great ashen eyes poring into Felix.

Felix’s heart pounding his ears drowned out all other noise. “Um, do you want to, uh, go somewhere?” he asked.

“Like…the goddess tower?”

Felix shook his head. “Too many people.” Bernadetta sighed in relief. “What about the pond?”

Bernadetta looped her arm around his again. Never had Felix felt more like some genteel knight, walking his lady to the pond, arm in arm as though he were one of the heroes in her novels. So many people thronged the cathedral and the hall that the pond was completely empty. They sat together at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the water. The moon poured silver light into the water.

“It’s probably for the best,” Bernadetta said. Her arm still hooked around Felix’s. “If my father found out I went to the goddess tower with a boy…” She let the possibility drift off, unspoken feelings rolling below the surface like dark ripples murmuring across the pond.

“Why would he care?” Felix asked.

“Because I have to remain pure.” Bernadetta sighed. Her body melted into Felix’s. She smelled of honey and bergamot. It drove Felix to distraction.

“That’s dumb. Why don’t you just leave your father,” Felix said. “Go live your own life.”

“Where would I go?” Bernadetta’s voice hinged on the edge of despair.

“You could come to Faerghus.”

“What would I do there?”

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d find something for you.”

“You want me to follow you to Faerghus?”

Bernadetta’s face nested close to his. Felix once again fixated on the cherry pop of her lips, faintly glowing in the moonlight. This was futile, he knew; she would never move to Faerghus and he would never see her again. Young love never worked out. He saw it with Ingrid; he saw it with Sylvain.

But what if Sylvain was right? If he didn’t take his chance, would he regret it forever?

When Felix kissed her, it was soft and brief—a chaste brush of lips. Her lip paint tasted bitter, but he found himself enchanted by it all the same. The second kiss was longer, deeper; he knocked his forehead against her and breathed her in.

When they broke apart, she giggled and he smiled. They did not speak of it. Not until he walked her back to her room, still locked arm in arm. 

“Um, Felix, can I ask a stupid question,” Bernadetta asked, clutching her door, too afraid to leave. Felix nodded. “Am I your girlfriend now?”

Felix could feel the smile spread unwittingly across his face. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

“Oh, good.” She darted forward to kiss his cheek before retreating. “Good night.”

Felix walked away from her room with a beaming grin. No matter how hard he tried to straighten out his face, his muscle tugged involuntarily wider. Goddess, Sylvain would be insufferable tomorrow. For now, at least, Felix could enjoy himself.

There was no way for him to know how brief that joy would be.

* * *

He was hiding from Dimitri.

In the last five years, the boar prince had only become more bestial. Felix could barely look at him anymore. The man was like an animal. Dimitri hadn’t bothered much with Felix either, but Felix caught whiff of him talking to Byleth. Or rather, Byleth desperately trying to break through to the beast. The sight of it made his stomach churn. Felix immediately abandoned his task and turned around.

It was strange to be back at Garreg Mach. Wandering the weedy courtyards and the collapsed stones brought back a strange nostalgia. Felix’s life over the last years had been so consumed by battle that his schooldays seemed like a distant dream. Pieces of a forgotten life returned to him: sparring in the training grounds, avoiding Sylvain’s “guy nights,” feeding the cats crowding the bailey.

When thoughts like these came to pass, Felix began to think of Bernadetta and their brief courtship in those last few months of school. It felt strange to be here without her: to go to the dining hall without bringing her food, to pass by the garden without finding her hunting bugs, to pass through the library without her sneaking books. 

Perhaps that is why he went back to Bernadetta’s room. Perhaps his legs moved from muscle memory. Or perhaps he had forgotten that it wasn’t actually his own room.

Before he could even knock, the door opened, and there was Bernadetta. Her eyes widened when she saw Felix. He gawped in shock. What was she doing here? Wasn’t she Adrestian nobility? Felix had always assumed that her family would have supported Edelgard, but here she was.

“Felix!” she said in shock. “Are you here to see me?”

She had certainly grown up. She looked nice, although Felix could barely even admit it to himself. Her clothing suited her better than the school uniform ever had, accentuating curves he had pretended not to notice in their schooldays.

“Uh, well…yes.” What was he going to do? Admit that he had such fond memories of hiding in her room that he came here for some sort of comfort? Felix’s cheeks burned. He was unprepared for this. “What of it?”

“Nothing.” Bernadetta nervously smiled. “Wow. I didn’t imagine seeing you again.”

“Why are you here?” Felix asked. Bernadetta’s face fell. In hindsight, it perhaps sounded a bit too accusatory.

“I…I couldn’t stay in the Empire,” Bernadetta said. “It’s just…I had to come and help Byleth fight. I had to leave.” She sounded breathless as she spoke. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Why would I be mad?” He sounded mad. He could hear it in his own voice. But he felt something different, a strange myriad of emotions that tugged and pricked and gnawed. He was…relieved? And confused. And guilty for some reason—as though he had done something unforgiveable by assuming for all those years that she was just another Adrestian combatant.

“Because I’m the enemy?” Bernadetta whispered.

Perhaps he should have gone after her all those years ago. Perhaps he should have rescued her and brought her to Faerghus with him. Perhaps he should have never given her up after the war broke them apart.

But five years had passed. She had probably moved on. There was too much lost between them. She had certainly grown up—enough to run away from her home when home was her greatest haven.

 _I’m glad you’re here_ , is what Felix wanted to say. _I’m glad I don’t have to fight you. I’m glad that you’re safe._

But that’s not what Felix said.

“That’s dumb.”

* * *

He was hiding from Mercedes.

Well, not really. Mercedes knew where he was, or rather, where he was going. He just couldn’t stand hearing that knowing chime in her voice.

“You can go now, Felix. Bernadetta will be quite fine, I promise!”

But she wasn’t fine. She had a gaping hole in her arm and shoulder, where a wyvern’s talons had pierced flesh and bone. So much blood had stained her clothing that they had to burn them. When he first saw her carried in, he thought that she had died.

He was so, so dumb. He should have stuck by her. He knew how fragile she was. An agile sniper, sure, but utterly defenseless. Despite the fact that Byleth had placed him on the other side of the field, he could not help but feel as though this was his fault somehow.

Now Bernadetta lay high on herbs to mediate the pain while Mercedes tried to stem the depth of the wound. Felix wished he had studied faith magic now instead of reason. Lot of good it did him.

“Now, there’s nothing you can do,” Mercedes had said, her voice chipper despite Bernadetta’s dire straits. Felix hated to hear her confirm what he already knew. “So why don’t you go down and get some rest.”

Felix had tried to complain, but there was no arguing with Mercedes.

“Um, Felix,” Bernadetta murmured before he could leave. Perhaps it was her deep haze, but she had reached out for his hand. Her skin felt cold; her grasp was weak. Felix, on the other hand, felt extremely warm. “Would you mind feeding my plants?”

Of course, that was what she worried about. Not her life, not her injuries, just her plants.

So now to escape Mercedes’ knowing smile, Felix made his way back to Bernadetta’s room. He remembered, back in his school days, how she would feed the little fly traps. Sometimes, on his way walking to her dorm, he would catch a fly and present it almost as a present. It always made her smile, even though it was a dumb gesture.

Bernadetta’s room was unlocked. While other rooms had been ransacked, most of her belongings remained in place. Guess no one felt the need to pilfer half-made embroidery or spine-worn novels.

Bernadetta already had a box of crawlers ready to feed her plants. Felix took a pair of tweezers and selected worm. Just as she had taught him, he rested the worm on the whiskers of the flytrap and let the plant’s mouth enclose around it. For the pitchers, he dropped the worms on the lips, watching the worm wriggle and slide down into its throat.

 _That was it. You’re done now_ , he thought to himself. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he stood there dumbly, staring at Bernadetta’s old room.

Felix tentatively sat on the edge of her bed. _What are you doing?_ he chastised himself. He should leave. All she had asked him to do was feed her plants. Anything more was creepy. But he couldn’t move. Instead, he fisted his hands in the blanket. The texture of fleecy wool invited memories of hanging out in the room with her, in those few short months that he had called her his girlfriend.

How often in the past five years had he savored the scene of her balled up on this bed, nose pressed into a novel, as she snuggled her head into his collar. He could still smell the scent of honey and bergamot.

_Fine. You’re not over her._

He though the admission would be freeing. Instead, he just groaned and fell over into the bed. His head struck a hard object under the sheets. Felix pulled out a novel some dumb title. Anxious and without any other distraction, Felix flipped through the text idly.

 _Why does anyone like this stuff?_ Felix thought. This one was particularly absurd: a heroine trapped in a castle by her father, who was trying to force into a marriage with an elderly count. Her love interest was some duke’s son that insisted on trying to save her. Felix wondered if she identified with these stories of captivity and paternal control. _She’s stronger than that. She doesn’t need some asshole to save her._

Felix turned another page, about ready to abandon the novel. Instead, his heart stopped.

_Elena gasped as Stefano’s hands pressed into her hips. A sensation of fire chased his kisses as his mouth moved down her naked body. Elena writhed as his strong, callused hands parted her thighs, chasing up towards her—_

Felix clapped the book closed. All right. He was beginning to understand why she enjoyed these. Felix dropped the book as he stood quickly from the bed, his whole body shaking with nervous energy. His heart rammed against his chest. It would be incredibly dangerous to remain on her bed reading that book—imagining _her_ reading that book—wondering if she was thinking of anyone in particular when she pictured Stefano’s strong, callused hands.

As Felix hurried out the door, he nearly crashed into Mercedes.

“Oh, Felix, hi,” she said. “How are Bernadetta’s plants?”

“They’re fine,” he said, feeling suspiciously like he had been caught stealing.

“I’m just here to grab some fresh clothes. You wouldn’t happen to know where she has some fresh undershirts?”

“Why would I know that?”

Mercedes smiled another one of those damn implicating smiles.

“Oh, I just thought I would ask.” Felix shoved past her, eager to get away before Mercedes’ second sense told her what he was reading on Bernadetta’s bed. When her airy sweet voice called after him, his blood froze in his veins in fear. “Felix!” It took a moment to realize that she was not accusing him of anything. “I’ll need some help transporting Bernie to her room tomorrow. Do you think you can help?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

The next day, Felix arrived at the infirmary early. Bandages slung around Bernadetta’s arm and shoulder. She could walk at least, so Felix didn’t have to carry her from her infirmary. But she did lean heavily on his arm as they made the walk to her dormitory. Felix hoped that she would not notice the rumpled bedsheets or the displaced book.

Mercedes led the way, her arms bulging with Bernadetta’s medicine and supplies. Once inside, she surveyed for a clear spot to set out the poultices and bandages. The desk and windowsill were as crowded as ever.

“Here, just give them to me,” Felix said, after helping Bernadetta down on the bed.

“Now, Bernie, you’ll have to change your bandage twice a day and reapply the poultice both times,” Mercedes said. “Clean the wound of any debris each time. Do you have someone who can help with this? I’m not sure I’ll be able to spare the time from the infirmary. Maybe Ingrid or—”

“I can help,” Felix said. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Both Mercedes and Bernadetta stared at him, wide-eyed. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, well, replacing the bandages will require Bernadetta to remove her—” Mercedes gestured to her shirt.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t realize.” He didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that his face had gone bright red.

“It’s all right,” Bernadetta said. “Actually, I don’t mind if Felix wants to help.” If Felix had the gall to raise his eyes from his feet, he might have noticed Bernadetta’s expression was a similar beet shade.

“Well, in that case, Felix, would you like me to show you how it’s done?”

If Felix could have hidden from Mercedes in this moment, he would have. He would have pressed himself into a hundred folds and slipped through a crack in the floor. But the problem was Mercedes was currently inhabiting his favorite hiding place—an unwanted intrusion, especially now as she instructing him how to remove Bernadetta’s shirt without injuring her.

The best he could was avoid Mercedes’ gaze entirely. Felix sat on the edge of the bed next to Bernadetta. They were able to pull her shirt over her head and forward to cover her exposed chest. Felix followed Mercedes’ instructions to gently unwind the bandages from bruised and puckered skin.

The wound was uglier than he expected. An ugly mess of color—blue, black, green, red—snarled around the holes. Felix could count the wyvern’s claws by the gaping punctures left in her skin. Around the edge of the wound, ribbons of dead skin curled away from the wound. Bernadetta held her breath as Felix peeled away the last of the bandages.

Her back lay completely bare to him. He could see the ridge of her spine protruding. Various other scars knitted her skin: silver threads and pink pitted marks. War had not been kind her, but part of him worried that these were not recent battle injuries. He almost reached out to trace a raised red patch of skin until he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He prayed to whatever god there was that Mercedes did not notice.

With his fingers, he globbed up a generous helping of the poultice and gently dabbed it over her wound. Bernadetta’s muscle tensed as he worked. She was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her thighs bleed against his side and see her hair prickle in the bare air.

A knock interrupted the session. Bernadetta’s muscles tightened under Felix’s touch. Mercedes calmly went and stuck her head out. She chatted with the person on the other side.

“Excuse me, I have to leave,” Mercedes said. “Felix, will you be all right finishing up?”

“Yeah, I know what to do now,” Felix said.

Mercedes left, and Felix was alone with Bernadetta for the first time in years. For once, the silence between them was suffocating instead of comforting. Felix needed to hurry this up. Then he could make an escape. Perhaps it was best to have Mercedes chaperoning them. Perhaps he ought to ask Ingrid to help out next time.

Felix wrapped up her wound, covering up those ugly marks, with the fresh bandages. Bernadetta winced at the pain, but she did not complain. Finally, they were able to slip her shirt back over her head. Despite her clothed state, Felix still felt his heart drumming.

It was time for him to leave, but he was glued to the spot. His fists curled again in the wool of her blanket. _Say something, you idiot,_ he thought. Bernadetta finally summoned the courage to turn her head towards him, her dark eyes questioning his presence.

“I missed you, you know,” Felix said, his mouth dry and his pulse racing. Why did he say that? _Dumb. Dumb. You should have said that when you first saw her. Not now. Not all these weeks later._

“I know,” she said softly. Her eyes dropped, and she bit back a smile. “I missed you too.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Bernadetta frowned. “For what?”

“For not coming after you.”

Bernadetta giggled. “Oh, Felix, I never expected that.”

“I should have,” Felix said. “I—”

Bernadetta raised her hand to his face. Her touch was enough to silence Felix completely. His eyes bored into hers. Steel gray, just like he remembered, ringed with silver just outside of her iris. He had read enough of her novels to know that she wanted him to kiss her, but he was captivated in this moment, staring into her eyes.

So she was the one to lean forward and peck his lips.

She pulled away quickly, her face aflame. The kiss stole the breath from his lungs. It awoke something deep inside him that he had suppressed for five whole years. It was like a latch had lifted from his heart; it was like the doors had been thrown open after a long winter.

Felix placed a hand behind her neck and pulled her towards him. Far from Bernadetta’s innocent smooch, Felix was ready to devour her. He kissed her with five years’ worth of pent-up energy. Bernadetta’s uninjured hand slipped to his hair; he felt his ponytail unfurl and fall against his face. Ever mindful of her injury, Felix shifted, bracing one arm against the bed while using the other to hold her steady.

“Bernadetta, I am just coming back to check—” Mercedes’ soft gasp interrupted their caresses. “Oh! So sorry! Looks like you’re doing well here.” The door shut quickly after. 

Felix no longer cared to be embarrassed. He laughed and brushed Bernadetta’s hair from her eyes before kissing her again. Let Mercedes be the one to hide this time.

* * *

He was hiding from Sylvain.

For once, Felix could not hide in Bernadetta’s room. That would be far more incriminating than any other option. In fact, sneaking out of her room was the tricky part. He had slept straight until the dawn bell tolled out over the monastery.

Outside the cool morning air helped settle his nerves. Night and morning intermingled on the horizon in a blur of pink and purple. He was still wearing clothes from yesterday, but if he hurried, he could get down to the training hall and change into a sparring jerkin before anyone noticed.

“Hey, Felix, there you are!”

Damnit. Felix kept walking. He was so close to the training hall. It was easy to pretend as if Sylvain’s voice didn’t carry through the whole damned monastery. Heavy footsteps chased him.

“Felix, wait up!”

Sylvain grabbed Felix’s shoulder, and Felix wrested him away.

“Where were you last night?” Sylvain asked. His eyebrows lifted so high that they practically disappeared into his hair.

“Out,” Felix said.

“I thought we were going out for drinks.”

“Sorry. I forgot.”

“You weren’t there either when we got back,” Sylvain said. “Ingrid was worried you might have been mugged.”

“I was training.”

“Really?” Sylvain sound incredulous. “Because we checked the training grounds.”

Felix’s ears burned. “Then I took a walk to clear my head.”

“You weren’t in your room either this morning,” Sylvain said.

“Well, yeah, I’m out here, aren’t I?”

“I checked on you on an hour ago, bud. No one was home.”

Felix frowned. “What were you doing out of bed an hour ago? Unless _you_ were leaving someone’s room last night.”

Sylvain handled these matters with a finesse that Felix almost envied. Instead of turning tomato-bright—which Felix could feel creeping over his features as they spoke—Sylvain gave a breathy laugh and waggled his eyebrows.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“Tell you what?” They were so close to the doors of the training room now.

“Oh, come on, Felix.” Sylvain slung an arm around his shoulder so that he couldn’t escape. “You were in Bernadetta’s room last night, weren’t you?”

Damnit. Caught.

He hadn’t meant to stay the night or even past dinner. At the beginning of the night, he had no licentious intention. They were just enjoying some quality companionship, as they usually did. Surprisingly, since they resumed their relationship, Felix had settled into their old routines comfortably. Hours could pass with little said, and they could still just enjoy each other’s company.

Of course, these days, some of their time was punctuated with rather pleasurable diversions. Bernadetta might have been shy, but she had grown much bolder since her youth and more enthusiastic. She had a way of kissing that drove the thoughts straight from his head. And the noises she made—soft little hums and squeaks and, most maddeningly, a deep-throated groan that she only made when Felix skimmed a hand along her thigh.

Still, Felix usually pulled away before they went too far. Until last night, of course.

 _“Show me your disarming move again,”_ _he had teased her, and this time, as she flailed her arms, he caught her wrists and pinned her down on the bed. “Looks like you’ll have to do better than that,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collar bone. So Bernadetta hooked her legs around his body and pulled him flush down against her, so that his hips pressed against her core. Her hips rolled underneath him in a suggestive fashion, sending a sudden jolt of arousal through him._

_Which one of her novels had taught her that?_

Had they pulled this stunt at the training ground, as they usually did, it would have ended there. Hell, it would have ended three steps back. Just a chaste kiss, a giggle, and a blush. But they weren’t at the training ground. They were alone, in Bernadetta’s bedroom, wrestling on the bedsheets.

_Felix was not particularly cuddly, but afterwards, he couldn’t help but pull Bernadetta close to him. The ruffled state of her hair reminded Felix of their school days together. Bernadetta’s fingers traced the outline of his pectoral muscles before winding up his neck and tapping at his lips._

_“You’re smiling again,” she said._

_He was. Even he could feel it._

_“Of course I am,” he said. “I’m happy right now.”_

“Is Felix blushing?” Sylvain’s face was entirely too close for comfort.

“Cut it out.” He pushed Sylvain’s face away. Shoving Sylvain’s arm from his shoulder, he made a beeline for the doors into the sparring pit. 

“Aw, come on,” Sylvain said, chasing Felix inside the training ground. No one else was there this early in the morning. Moody dawn barely suffused the room. Sylvain followed him around the room like a sick puppy. “So, how was it?”

“I’m not talking about this,” Felix said. He removed his coat so that he could tug a padded jerkin over his head.

“Aren’t you curious about who I was with?” Sylvain asked.

“No.” Felix went to the bin of blunted training swords and pulled out a foil. He then selected a shield from the wall.

“How about this. We’ll spar, and if I win, you have to tell me what happened.”

“How about this. We’ll spar, and if I don’t take your damn head off, you’ll get to walk away with your life.”

Sylvain grinned. “That good, eh?”

Felix threw his shield at him.

* * *

He was hiding from himself.

Felix was fine. He. Was. _Fine_.

He hadn’t slept in his own room in weeks, but one of the monks kept annoying him about a missing library book, and then he had opened up that damn drawer with all of those letters from his father—unopened, still stamped with the Fraldarius seal. The grief had crashed over him all at once, a giant wave drowning him in everything that he had never said and all the apologies that he had never given.

Felix slammed the drawer shut. He ignored the voices in the hallway chiming in concern. He shoved past bodies lingering by the greenhouse. Nothing processed until he found himself inside Bernadetta’s room, burying his face into her neck.

“I’m fine,” he told her. She hadn’t asked. Just a surprised little squeak at his abrupt entrance. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He didn’t need to talk about it. He wasn’t Ingrid, endlessly dwelling on grief, or Dimitri drowning in obsession. Felix could handle his own emotions. What he needed was to escape the guilt. Awful, stabbing, growing guilt.

Whenever Felix kissed Bernadetta, all the thoughts in his head had a habit of dissipating into dust, and that’s what he needed right now. To not think. To just lose himself. Bernadetta squeaked as he pressed his lips against her in madding want, as his hands searched for solace over her body, as his legs nudged a space between her thighs. Bernadetta accepted all his broken parts. Her arms were the only thing holding him together.

Suddenly, Felix collapsed against her in a sob. Disheveled, half-clothed, Felix curled against Bernadetta and, for the first time since his father died, cried.

“Why do I even care?” he murmured against her collarbone. “I couldn’t stand the man.”

“He was your father,” Bernadetta said. Her hands loosely drifted through his hair. Her gentle ministrations against his scalp sent tingles through his skull.

The whole situation made Felix itchy with embarrassment. Frustrated, he bolted upright and rubbed the tears from his eyes. He hadn’t shed tears in years. Not since—

“I cried when Glenn died,” he admitted to her. Bernadetta watched him, silent for once. “My father told me that there was no reason to cry. That Glenn died a good death and that it was our job to soldier on in strong silence. I think he cried though.” Behind his father’s bedroom door, Felix had heard his father release strangled moans of grief. Felix had tried to enter. The door had been locked.

Bernadetta’s arms slipped around Felix’s body. The shame he felt at crying made him feel nauseous.

“It’s not a bad thing to cry,” Bernadetta said. “Sometimes, you’ve just got to get it all out. Let loose the floodgates, you know.”

His floodgates. It reminded him of how Ingrid always used to speak of his wall. Or his father and his locked doors. Or Bernadetta and her castle of solitude.

But Bernadetta had let him in.

Here, he was, in her castle of solitude, and she had let him enter, despite her own barriers.

Perhaps Bernadetta was his refuge. Perhaps this room offered no more solace than she what she offered him. So Felix accepted the solace. He unlocked the door and let her in. 

“I’m scared,” Felix admitted. “I’m scared of more people dying and of losing the people I have left.” There, he had said it. Months and years of locking it away, and suddenly he felt free. “I’m scared of losing you too.”

A strange thing happened. By admitting it, things became slightly better. Not entirely but slightly. Felix wiped the last of the grief from his eyes.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Bernadetta said. “You don’t have to hide it.”

Bernadetta continued to pet his hair. Felix felt the pull of sleep. He didn’t need to stay; there was no longer any reason for him to hide. Then again, it no longer felt like hiding.

One day, if they survived the war, he would bring her back with him. They would go to Fraldarius Manor and start a life there…together. He would unlock the dining room and the study and the old bedrooms. He would wrangle the curtains off the windows and air the whole place out, until the castle of solitude became—once again—a home.

And then he would give the keys to Bernadetta.

**Author's Note:**

> My meager attempt to bring a little more Felibern into the world. Kudos and comments greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, I have a twitter now. You can follow me @skreev1.


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